


There's a boy digging up your grave

by thecityofthefireflies



Category: Supernatural
Genre: BC WE ARE ALL THOSE NUNS WATCHING DEAN WE ARE ALL SYMPATHETIC OBSERVERS, Dean's first solo hunt, F/F, Gen, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, John Winchester's Journal, Other, POV Outsider, POV Second Person, Pre-Series, The Lesbian Nuns are Dead so cw for that, dean's 17th birthday, pov dead lesbian nun, the lesbian nuns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:06:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28760760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecityofthefireflies/pseuds/thecityofthefireflies
Summary: The tumblr rediscovery of John Winchester's journal and Dean's homophobic 17th birthday digging up lesbian nuns is making me eat glass so here is a fic about the Nun's pov of things
Comments: 8
Kudos: 87





	There's a boy digging up your grave

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by @bisexualrowena and @thegeminisage for posting about the journal and making me want to eat glass and @the-wednesday-tales and @heller-jensen for putting the nuns in one coffin oh my god that directly inspired this tbh
> 
> I didn’t think about why I chose to write this in 2nd person bc it was 3 am and that just felt right (even tho I don’t usually like 2nd person) but now it’s 3 pm and it’s because We Are All the lesbian nun ghosts and we’re just bearing witness to the events in the journal canon and all we can do is ache with empathy
> 
> john winchester, let me kill you challenge

There’s a boy digging up your grave.

You’re watching him distantly, behind the part that’s dead and angry and smashing candelabras and making bloody tears drip from the eyes of the crucified Christ onto the pages of the book you once so loved.

He digs up your grave and pries off the lid of your coffin and looks at your humble bones, your amr broken a dozen years prior, your plain clothes - the bloody habit stripped away in death. He stops.

Then he digs up the grave beside yours. Your Sister - but you both stopped using that title for each other, the sisterhood of the habit surpassed by the intimacy you found in each other.

You’re not really with her as ghosts, smashing up the dormitory at the same time is as close to togetherness as you get but vengeful spirits aren’t really spending eternity as lovers.

The boy opens her coffin as well. He stands on the mulch and grass at the foot of the shafts between your graves and he stares and stares and chokes a sob. He’s young and the part of you that can still feel aches in recognition as you see the wet in his eyes.

You may still hold to the love of God above but the Fathers on earth are not so unconditional.

The boy scrubs his face with a dirty hand, grinding soil into the tear tracks. He looks at his watch and back at your graves and suddenly there is a spark in his eyes. He looks up defiantly, maybe at the distant cross on the steeple of the church, maybe at the black car parked a little closer.

He jumps down into your grave again, pulling out a knife and cutting the lining of your coffin free from the tacks holding it to the wood. It makes a sort of bag - a cradle - for your bones. He bunches the ends and lifts the bundle, bones are not very heavy without the weight of mortal flesh.

You are curious now, the pages have stopped tearing from the psalmbooks in the church and the cracks in the statue of Mary stop growing.

He drops your bones on top of hers. There is a muffled crunch, her ribs all shattering, but you are combined in one final exquisite union.

He anoints your embrace with gasoline slopping from a bottle. The strike of a match is loud against the backdrop of his heavy breathing.

You think of your schooling and Achilles and Patroclus and their charred bones sharing one urn. You wonder if they still teach the Iliad in school and if this boy saw himself in those pages.

You are gone and the fire reflects in his wet eyes. He looks afraid.

**Author's Note:**

> also the lesbian nuns are in heaven and they know what happened and they also go and beat up john winchester for what he did


End file.
